


Beyond My Wildest Dreams

by numberonemilkbread



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dreaming of Alternate Universes, Dreams, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numberonemilkbread/pseuds/numberonemilkbread
Summary: Oikawa has been losing sleep over a number of things lately: graduation, university, volleyball, and worst of all, his pathetic feelings for his best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime.It definitely doesn't help when he starts having awfully realistic dreams each night where he's seemingly transported to various alternate universes, and they make him question what exactly he wants to do about this crushing-on-his-childhood-best-friend situation.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. Dreaming of Basketball Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> When you have like four other works in progress but decide to start a new fic anyway \\(ツ)/
> 
> So... the concept for this fic is loosely inspired by [project_ecto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/project_ecto/pseuds/project_ecto)'s [in every version of reality](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15238491/chapters/35343003) (please check out the fic if you haven't already, it's one of my favorite Iwaoi stories!) because I also wanted an excuse to squeeze a bunch of AUs into one single fic 
> 
> I decided to make the AUs all Oikawa's dreams because I personally experience vivid dreams a lot, to the extent where sometimes I confuse myself because I'm not sure if something actually happened or if I dreamt it. My dreams also always relate to current life situations (e.g. dreaming of a cello string snapping the night before a performance) and star the people around me, so I thought it'd be interesting to incorporate that aspect into one of my fics :)

Oikawa stares intently at the YouTube video on his computer screen in the darkness of his room, wondering how he ended up going from “How to Deal with an Unrequited Crush” to “What Do Your Dreams Mean?”. He glances at the time at the corner of his screen, which tells him he’s been falling down this rabbit hole of YouTube recommendations for two hours now, something that’s been happening way too often.

He hits pause—which cuts off the modulated voice explaining how Sigmund Freud believed dreams represented repressed desires—and stretches, falling backwards onto the bed to stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. They’ve been up there since he was eight, when he went through an astronomy-obsessed phase. The memory of Iwaizumi presenting him with the pack of adhesive stars for Christmas and spending the entire evening arranging them properly brings a smile to his face. _Being kids was so much easier_ , he thinks. With graduation in two months, he’s found himself facing many sleepless nights, worries about universities and the future churning around in his head.

Oh, and also his apparent feelings for his best friend.

He has no idea how it happened, but he supposes he would describe the whole process as a rollercoaster. Him, in a little cart, heading up a steep incline inch by inch, slowly developing feelings. Years of lounging around in each other’s houses playing on their game consoles while cicadas hummed noisily outside the window, wordlessly offering slaps of comfort after losses to Shiratorizawa (and most recently, Karasuno), holding silly and profound conversations alike over bento boxes during lunch periods with Makki and Mattsun…

All part of his journey up the incline.

And then it hit him in the face all at once, like reaching the very peak of the hill and seeing nothing but miles and miles away, knowing the descent was about to come and his heart fluttering in his chest.

Because he realized he was in love with Iwaizumi Hajime, his childhood best friend. And now he’s on the downwards slope, falling in love rapidly and unable to stop the exhilaration and fear that accompanies him on the drop.

He knows he can’t let Iwaizumi know, especially since his best friend hasn’t shown a single sliver of interest in him romantically. Oikawa can take the inevitable heartbreak, but what he _can’t_ take is the look of pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes whenever he has to deny Oikawa something, and Oikawa _knows_ the pain Iwaizumi will feel when he has to reject Oikawa’s confession will be the greatest of all. It’ll strain their friendship for sure, because then Iwaizumi will never be able to look at him again without being reminded of Oikawa’s fat, sad crush, and Oikawa will have to forever remember the pained moment when Iwaizumi rejects him.

Sighing, he flops onto his stomach and props his chin up with one hand, pressing the space bar to continue the video with the other so that he can settle back into his routine of binging videos until his eyes struggle to stay open.

*✲ﾟ☾ *｡★ ☁︎ ★｡* ☾ ﾟ✲*

When he opens his eyes, he’s in the Seijoh gym, a volleyball in his hands, and the squeaks of shoes against the gym floor sounding in his ears.

Startled by the sudden change of location, he surveys his surroundings and finds everyone else doing serving practice. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are standing on the other side of the net aggressively powering through overhand serves, probably because they’ve made a bet on who can get the most serves over. The rest of his team are there too, and Oikawa wonders if he somehow lost an entire day of memories because the last thing he remembers is watching that random video on dreams in his bed. He wonders if he’s dreaming, but this all seems so _real_ , and he’s definitely aware of everything happening around him, and can even feel his parched throat. Aren’t dreams supposed to be constructed stories where you can’t control what happens? Is this lucid dreaming? Can he experience thirst in dreams?

Just to test his theory, Oikawa abandons the ball and heads over to the bench to grab his water bottle. He lifts it to his mouth and takes a sip, the water cooling down his burning throat. So, this _isn’t_ a dream? Oikawa stares at his water bottle and then at the rest of the gym. Everything seems completely ordinary, just like any other practice, except he can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing. The scene just doesn’t feel right, even though the coaches are sitting next to the whiteboard, where they usually sit, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa are horsing around as usual, and Kyoutani is smacking the ball like it owes him money as usual, and Kunimi is subtly trying to slack off as usual…

It hits Oikawa that a certain perpetually frowny-faced spiker is missing from the picture. He studies the water bottles next to him and realizes Iwaizumi’s black bottle is missing. Did Iwaizumi not show up at school today? _Why can’t he remember a single detail from the entire day?_

He trudges back to his spot and decides to practice a serve— _he’s here anyway, might as well take advantage of the practice time_ —concentrating on the ball and throwing it into the air before contacting it with a satisfying smack. It casts his worries aside for a while, drowning himself in the rhythmic pattern of tossing the ball and sending it over to the other court until the coaches tell them to clean up.

After all the balls are retrieved and locked away, Oikawa makes a beeline for Hanamaki and Matsukawa. They seem to be teasing Kindaichi, who’s standing stiffly in front of the locker room door and looking petrified, and he yells at them to stop harassing the underclassmen (something that’s usually Iwaizumi’s job). The two troublemakers turn to greet Oikawa with their signature grins (while Kindaichi scurries off) and claps him on the back as the three of them enter the locker room.

Oikawa tries to sound as nonchalant as possible for someone who’s just forgotten about eight hours’ worth of memories. “Um, was Iwa-chan sick today?”

His two friends wear matching looks of bewilderment like he’s just said something totally stupid (hypocritical, coming from _those_ two idiots). Hanamaki is the one to answer his question, speaking hesitantly. “No? We literally ate lunch together.”

Matsukawa nods and starts to rummage through his locker, Hanamaki copying the movements. Oikawa stands there, confused, wondering what is happening to him. He finally conjures up the willpower to open his locker— which he now realizes is right next to Hanamaki’s. Iwaizumi and he _always_ claim lockers right next to each other; what is Hanamaki doing in Iwaizumi’s locker? Except Hanamaki clearly owns the locker, since Oikawa caught sight of the pile of clothes catching dust in the back of the locker earlier, and Iwaizumi never leaves dirty clothing at school.

He is definitely going crazy, probably from all those nights of insomnia.

With the locker door obscuring his two friends’ view of him, he slumps his head onto his gym bag sitting in the locker, closing his eyes firmly and counting silently to ten. He slowly opens his eyes, hoping to see the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, but is instead met by the darkness of his gym bag’s interior, Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s voices next to him telling him this is very much _real_. He finally concedes he’s somehow managed to experience a full day without remembering any of it and thinks this will make a good point for his alien theories the next time he watches sci-fi movies with Iwaizumi. For now though, he needs to figure out where his best friend is.

When he finishes changing out from his sweaty clothes and zips up his turquoise and white jacket, he closes the locker door and harrumphs, catching his two friends’ attention. “So… Why didn’t Iwa-chan come to practice today?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa gape at him, and Oikawa wonders what he said wrong. His guess is that they’re surprised by how Oikawa is unaware of Iwaizumi’s whereabouts for once (contrary to popular belief, he is _not_ actually surgically attached to Iwaizumi), but he quickly finds out he’s missing the mark terribly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hanamaki slaps a hand onto Oikawa’s forehead, and the latter flinches back from the sudden movement. “Did you get amnesia or something?”

“Yeah, you’re acting kind of weird today,” Matsukawa adds. “We all saw you zoning out for half of serving practice, and you usually can’t get enough of that.”

Oikawa’s stuck between assuring his friends he’s absolutely _peachy_ and demanding them to answer his question because he still has no idea where Iwaizumi is. He finally decides to go with the former to avoid arousing further suspicion about his state of sanity and waves his hands around, jokingly brushing away the concerns. The practiced smile stays plastered on his face until he chirps a “Bye Makki, Mattsun!” and rushes out the door, with no idea what his next move is going to be.

He wants to head home and just fall into a deep slumber, but he also wants to figure out _what the heck is going on_. It’s almost dark outside and the other athletes are being freed from their own practices, so Oikawa decides to sit on the steps leading up to the gym and watch everyone pass by, trying to see if there’s anything else out of ordinary.

The weather is cool, but not bitterly cold to the extent where Oikawa shivers uncontrollably. It’s pleasant, like it’s on the brink of spring, just like the weather yesterday. It adds to Oikawa’s confusion about whether this is real life or a fantasy or a dream or some weird alternate universe because everything is so alike to life as he’s accustomed to. Except he can’t remember what happened today, and Iwaizumi is missing. He’s trying to recall what classes he was supposed to have today when a gruff voice jolts him out of his thoughts.

“Let’s go, Crappykawa. I’m exhausted.”

Oikawa feels like he’s just been reinvigorated, his heart beating with happiness at the familiar rough tone. He lifts his head, about to utter a greeting and maybe bombard his best friend with a recount of his weird day, when the words die in his throat at the sight of Iwaizumi in an unfamiliar jersey and basketball shorts. It still says 4 on his jersey, but it’s sleeveless and reveals Iwaizumi’s toned biceps. Oikawa quickly averts his eyes and jumps onto his feet, wondering if the other boy is cold at all wearing summer clothing and, more importantly, _why is Iwa-chan in basketball gear?_

“Haha, Iwa-chan, why weren’t you at volleyball practice?” Oikawa blurts out because he’s dying to know if he’s done something wrong, and maybe Iwaizumi’s decided to switch to basketball or something. He doesn’t know if that’s possible when it’s so late into the school year, and they’re graduating soon anyway, but with the hectic nonsense that’s been happening today, he can’t be bothered to dive into the logistics.

Iwaizumi gives him a funny look like he’s trying to assess if Oikawa’s being serious or not. Oikawa keeps a neutral expression even though he’s freaking out internally at Iwaizumi _not playing volleyball_ and also _those biceps_. “I haven’t played volleyball since before junior high, dummy. Did Hanamaki hit you on the head with the ball too many times today? You must have been spewing too much crap, I feel sorry for him and Matsukawa for having to deal an extra three hours with you during practice.”

Oikawa forces a grin and shoots back a retort about him being an absolute delight to be with. The banter with Iwaizumi feels completely natural as they walk home, but Oikawa feels like he’s on autopilot, throwing out insults mechanically and maintaining a pleasant expression throughout their journey home. Once they reach Iwaizumi’s house, Oikawa is invited to go in, who accepts despite his longing to hole up in his room and make sure he’s not going insane because he’s hoping to unearth some information out of the other boy.

As soon as they enter Iwaizumi’s room, Oikawa drops his bag at the foot of Iwaizumi’s bed and dives onto the carpet like he’s done so a million times before, glad to feel some resemblance of normalcy. Iwaizumi informs Oikawa he’s taking a quick shower and the setter nods, taking the time to scrutinize Iwaizumi’s room. The layout is still basically the same as it is in real life (or Oikawa’s world? He still has no idea if this is just a dream or some parallel universe), save for the basketball posters adorning the walls instead of volleyball ones. There’s also a basketball in the corner of the room instead of a volleyball; all changes Oikawa is unsurprised by, if the Iwaizumi in this dream/reality is a basketball player instead. When Iwaizumi comes out in a grey t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he takes a spot next to Oikawa and starts working on a set of math problems, using a textbook as a makeshift clipboard. Oikawa tries to concentrate on his homework (which he does not remember being assigned) too, relieved that he knows how to do all of them. He doesn’t think he’s learned this aspect of calculus yet, but he’s somehow aware of the steps he needs to take to solve each question. That makes him think about his current situation instead, the math problems forgotten in his lap.

If this is a dream, does that mean he subconsciously knows how to do these kinds of problems? Or does his brain just fabricate some problem-solving process and the way Oikawa “knows” how to do them is actually wrong? And if this is actually an alternate reality, does that mean he retains the knowledge this reality’s Oikawa has (kind of like never forgetting how to ride a bike after learning it once) but not the memories?

He’s so lost in his thoughts, pondering the possibilities of alternate universes and dreams being _this_ tangible, that he doesn’t register Iwaizumi’s prodding until the other boy pokes him extra hard in the ribs.

“Ow! What was that for, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa cries, rubbing at the stinging spot. The math textbook slides off his lap at the movement, landing with a small _thump_ onto the carpeted floor.

“You’re acting awfully distracted today,” Iwaizumi states as he taps his pencil against his notebook. “What is it?”

Oikawa fidgets with his own pencil, avoiding Iwaizumi’s eyes. He can’t possibly disclose the real reason he’s acting weird today because he knows how ridiculous his situation sounds, and Iwaizumi would probably laugh and ship him off to the nearest mental asylum. He’s still debating what to tell his best friend when Iwaizumi grips his wrist.

“You’re not overworking yourself again, are you? You know I can’t watch you 24/7 like some babysitter so—”

“No, no,” Oikawa hastily assures the scowling boy. “I just… What do you think would’ve happened if we got to play volleyball together?” To alleviate the seriousness of this conversation, he adds jokingly, “I would’ve liked to set to those manly arms. Just think about the power behind your spikes!”

He doesn’t say that he’s been tossing to those arms for almost his entire life, and that he doesn’t possibly know what to do in a world where Iwaizumi is _not_ his spiker. His ace. A world where Iwaizumi doesn’t even play volleyball.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about?” Iwaizumi sounds relieved, like he was expecting something worse, and releases his grip on Oikawa’s wrist. “I mean… I’ve already told you this before. We both picked what we felt passionate about, and I know we both don’t regret our choices. Sure, sometimes I wish we played on the same team because you’re my best friend and partner; but ultimately, we did what was best for ourselves. Besides, I don’t think we would be where we are right now if we hadn’t chosen different sports.”

Oikawa has no idea what that last sentence conveys, but the deep tenderness in Iwaizumi’s eyes makes him blurt out, “What?”

The other boy reaches out again, but this time, he gently slides his hand palm-up underneath Oikawa’s. Oikawa is stunned by this action because Iwaizumi hasn’t held his hand since they were in elementary school and their parents told them to hold hands when crossing the road (now he realizes that’s a surefire way to make sure they _both_ get mowed down if a car really did run into them). He lifts his eyes to Iwaizumi’s face, unsure how to interpret this unfamiliar gesture, but Iwaizumi is pointedly looking down at their hands instead. The floaty feeling in Oikawa’s stomach intensifies when Iwaizumi intertwines their fingers together, the touch and heat of Iwaizumi’s palm solid against his own.

The logical part of him wants to snatch his hand away because this is just going to give him false hope. He’s also confused by the plain romanticism of the action because, to his knowledge, _he and Iwaizumi aren’t dating,_ and friends don’t hold hands like this _._ Iwaizumi’s hand is so _warm_ and _big_ though, and Oikawa finds himself unable to shake it off. To be frank, he can sit here on this carpet in this little room for the rest of his life if it means never having to let go.

“I did say before that I realized I was… in love with you when you stayed with me every day after school for two weeks to work on my offensive techniques before tryouts during our first year.” Iwaizumi looks up to meet Oikawa’s eyes, and the latter can see faint pink dusting the other’s cheeks. “I knew that you didn’t care much for basketball—well, you probably still don’t—but you were willing to endure it for four hours every day so that I’d have a chance at making the team. And that’s when I knew that no one else would ever be as perfect for me as you are.”

Oikawa freezes, eyes widening at the abruptness and bluntness of the confession. Or maybe it’s not really abrupt because Iwaizumi’s words imply that they’re already dating. He wants to panic, swoon, run away, and kiss Iwaizumi all at once.

 _I realized I was in love with you_.

His concerns about Iwaizumi playing basketball instead of volleyball and this being a dream or alternate reality is forgotten as his mind replays those words over and over like a broken tape. Iwaizumi is _in love_ with him, and that’s all that matters.

Iwaizumi leans in, slowly closing the distance between them. Oikawa has seen enough romantic comedies to know what’s going to happen soon and subconsciously leans forward too, staring into Iwaizumi’s dreamy green eyes before allowing his own to flutter close, anticipating the moment when their lips will touch. His heart hammers in his chest as he recalls the myriad of times he’s fantasized about this scene, and now…

His eyes suddenly fly open involuntarily, met with the sight of his blank computer screen. He realizes he must have fallen asleep using his right forearm as a pillow because it’s sore, and he’s lying on his stomach so there’s this uncomfortable pressure on his abdomen. Sunlight filters in through a slit in the curtains, casting a strip of light onto the floor of his bedroom. There’re a few bird chirps from outside the window, and he can hear his mother bustling in the kitchen, the sound of glass and porcelain clinking in a distance. Oikawa rolls over onto his back and stares up at the glow-in-the-dark-stars on the ceiling, feeling groggy and disoriented, but clearheaded enough to form coherent thoughts.

_So, it was all just a dream?_

Just to make sure, he grabs his phone from the nightstand and clicks into his photos, searching for the selfie he took with the rest of the Seijoh team after their win to Dateko during Interhigh preliminaries. Relief rushes through him when he pinpoints Iwaizumi in the familiar volleyball jersey standing behind him in the photo, face free of his signature scowl since they were all celebrating their victory. So, it really _was_ a dream, one where Iwaizumi played basketball instead.

The voice from the YouTube video last night echoes in his head: _dreams are representation of repressed desires_. Well, he already knows he’s heads over heels for his best friend, so he’s guessing his “repressed desires” are pursuing a relationship with Iwaizumi. The thought of dating Iwaizumi reminds him of what the other boy had said towards the end of his dream, about picking different sports being a catalyst for their relationship.

He wonders if there’s a ring of truth to it, then snorts internally. The dream was just a product of his imagination and probably didn’t mean much. Now he’s just overanalyzing.

Still, everything felt so _real_. The heat of Iwaizumi’s hand, the warmth of his breath in Oikawa’s face as they leaned closer…

The now-blushing boy decides to take a cold shower, trying to wash away the swirling thoughts in his mind.

*✲ﾟ☾ *｡★ ☁︎ ★｡* ☾ ﾟ✲*

They’re walking back home in silence, which would usually be comfortable but feels awkward to Oikawa now thanks to his thoughts that stemmed from the dream. He’s tried his best to act normal around Iwaizumi, but making eye contact with his best friend just reminds him of their almost-kiss in the dream, causing the boy heat up. Oikawa’s never been one to blush easily, even when he did have secret daydreams about kissing Iwaizumi, but now the newly learned _repressed desires_ knowledge and the fact that his mind is thinking of Iwaizumi even when he’s sleeping makes Oikawa oddly embarrassed.

“Oi, are you okay?”

Oikawa nearly jumps at the voice interrupting his thoughts. He tilts his head slightly and puts on a practiced expression of innocence, forcing himself to look up at Iwaizumi. “Of course! Why, are your motherly instincts tingling, Iwa-chan?”

He skillfully dodges the kick Iwaizumi aims at his shins and laughs, though it sounds a little artificial to his ears.

“You’ve been acting distracted all day. You didn’t even react when Hanamaki made fun of your hair.”

Oikawa’s hand shoots up to his hair, realizing his curls are in a state of acute disarray and not even _artfully_ messy, just _messy_ messy. “What?” He cries, appalled at how he’s managed to ruin his public appearance in a single day because he was too busy overthinking his dream this morning to properly focus on his haircare. “I can’t believe nobody told me that!”

“Hanamaki _did_ tell you during lunchtime, dummy. This just proves my point that you’ve been distracted.” Iwaizumi smirks at Oikawa’s whining, reaching out to ruffle it to mess it up further. “What, did you not have time to conduct your hour-long routine this morning?”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan! This is serious! Now the fangirls will leave me because now they’ve realized my hair is not actually naturally perfect,” Oikawa moans, slumping his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder as they continue walking down the fairly empty street.

“Oh, I thought you drove them away with your crappy personality, Crappykawa.” Oikawa complains about Iwaizumi’s cruelty for a while, almost forgetting about the dream until Iwaizumi asks, “Really though, are you okay?”

Oikawa sighs, unsure if he should confide in Iwaizumi because, well, _Iwaizumi_ is kind of the source of his distress here. He thought he had bottled up all his Iwaizumi feelings well enough that he could mostly ignore them, but the dream last night has just popped open the cork, resulting in a teenage love crisis for Oikawa. He doesn’t know why he’s even pondering about this so deeply, especially since he’s already made up his mind to preserve their friendship by not confessing.

Still, now that the dream has dangled the possibility of dating Iwaizumi in front of him, Oikawa wants nothing but to take the bait.

“Yeah, I just had a weird dream last night.” When Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, Oikawa takes that as his cue to go on. “I dreamt that Iwa-chan plays basketball instead of volleyball. Can you believe that? I can’t imagine a world where you’re not a spiker. It definitely fits your porcupine personality way better than any basketball position would!” He wisely decides to leave out the part where Iwaizumi was actually dating him, and they almost kissed.

Iwaizumi scowls at the insult but doesn’t look too surprised, replying, “Well, my dad actually did want me to do basketball—”

“What? He did?” Oikawa screeches, unaware of this. He’s always thought Iwaizumi only wanted to do volleyball, despite his natural ability for all sports.

“Yeah, but I told them I wanted to do volleyball when you said you wanted to do it.”

 _Huh,_ Oikawa thinks. _So there really could’ve been a chance Iwaizumi ended up playing basketball instead of volleyball_. Suddenly, another thought pops up: _is his brain trying to tell him he would’ve ended up with Iwaizumi if Iwaizumi had listened to his dad?_

 _That is ridiculous_ , a third thought cuts in. Up until a minute ago, Oikawa had no idea Iwaizumi’s dad wanted him to play basketball.

Remembering Iwaizumi is still standing in front him, he quickly flashes a smile and coos, “Aw, did Iwa-chan follow me to volleyball?”

“No,” Iwaizumi scoffs. “I was making sure you didn’t infect the other kids with your stupidity.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whines, kicking a pebble on the ground and directing the conversation towards Hanamaki’s newest goal to find the best creampuff in Miyagi, dispelling his concerns and thoughts.

After all, it was just a dream.


	2. Dreaming of Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Oikawa encounters chaos and unexpected tenderness

The lingering tendrils of the dream are pushed to the back of Oikawa’s mind as the evening passes by, spent through mundane conversations over the dinner table and, watching volleyball match replays on his computer. However, as soon as his parents bid him goodnight and the house descends into a dead silence, the previous night’s events come rushing back. Which is how Oikawa finds himself once again watching YouTube videos on various topics associated with dreams past midnight. He’s also combed through multiple websites on what different dreams mean, even going as far as searching in incognito, _what does it mean when you dream that your best friend plays basketball instead of volleyball_. Unfortunately, none of his research produces useful results, so he shuts off his laptop and tries to sleep by counting aliens jumping over fences.

*✲ﾟ☾ *｡★ ☁︎ ★｡* ☾ ﾟ✲*

A distant booming sound of an explosion snaps Oikawa’s eyes open.

He’s about to spring out of bed with the intention of heading downstairs to investigate the source of the noise but freezes as he takes in the scene before him. Glass shards shower down from towering buildings as deafening explosions rock the infrastructure, accompanied by screams of terror. Gunshots and sirens blare among the chaos of raging fires, smashed cars, and crumbling structures. Oikawa suspects the source of the havoc stems from the various figures donning dark-colored outfits, which is confirmed in the next moment. The group laughs maniacally as one of them shoots fragments of crystal-like projectiles into the fish statue erected above a seafood restaurant, sending it toppling with a _crash_ onto the streets, crushing two cars and a fire hydrant.

The villains aren’t the only people taking part in the action though. In the air, an assortment of masked individuals wearing outfits in a variety of colors, some with capes, fly around, trying to alleviate the damage. Others protect the civilians from the ground, evacuating sobbing individuals or facing off against the villains. Oikawa spies a hero saving a group of elderly people from raining pieces of concrete by creating a glowing force field. There’s also a hero dressed in a red outfit complete with a white cape who appears to have the ability to elongate his nails into claws as well as astonishing agility. Oikawa thinks the man resembles a cat as he dodges incoming attacks from a black-clothed woman (who’s able to shoot rocks from her hands) and swipes at the projectiles, which shatter into minute pieces.

If he’s being honest, the entire scene looks like something out of one of those Marvel movies he always watches with Iwaizumi on a comprise when neither of them feels like watching the other’s picks (always alien movies for him, usually a variant of Godzilla or a horror movie for Iwaizumi).

Oikawa is dumbstruck by the pandemonium, unsure what his next move should be. He _knows_ it’s all a dream, but the crashes and screams are all undeniably lifelike and loud like he’s actually standing in the middle of a fight between good and evil. A piece of granite crashes onto the pavement beside him, only a meter or so away, making Oikawa flinch. He jogs a fair distance away and turns into an alley, figuring it’ll be safer to hide here and observe. When he squats against the brick wall, his pants catch his attention, and he takes a good look at himself, having ignored his outfit up until now. He’s wearing a turquoise shirt with matching pants, the two separated by a white belt fastened at his hip. A snow-white cape is attached over his shoulder, and he’s surprised by how comfortable the outfit is despite how tightly it fits. The fact that he’s dressed in something that is _not_ typical casual wear means that he’s not just a civilian in this dream though. His colors are bright, so he’s guessing he’s playing the part of a hero, based on the outfit color trends he’s seen. Now, if only he can figure out what his power is.

He’s standing up and dusting himself off when someone suddenly slams him back into the wall, knocking his breath out. As his vision clears up after turning hazy for a moment, he realizes the person standing in front of him, decked out in a maroon and white outfit with a bird insignia adorning the center of the belt, is Ushijima.

 _Great,_ Oikawa thinks. _Even in my dreams, Ushiwaka is still haunting me_.

“Great King,” Ushijima greets, voice emotionless as usual even though he’s crushing Oikawa against the wall. Oikawa’s wondering why Ushijima is calling him that when he realizes that must be his superhero identity. Of course his brain would make Ushijima play the side of the villain. How befitting to real life.

Oikawa tries to speak, to spat some insult into Ushijima’s face, but his throat is burning, and his entire body throbs from the strength Ushijima is bracing on him. He has no idea what Ushijima’s power is, but he’s guessing inhumane strength because there’s no way the other man can be able to overpower Oikawa so easily. Ushijima isn’t that much taller than him, but then he wonders if the anthropometry of the people he knows is different in his dreams.

When Oikawa fails to answer Ushijima, the latter says in a flat tone, “If you are trying to use your mind control, I am sorry to say it will not work. The agency had us all fitted with a metal plate to block your mind control waves.”

So _that’s_ what his superpower is. He would be more pleased to hear that he has such a cool gift, but his current concern about not dying in Ushijima’s hands outweighs any desire to celebrate.

“Your weakness is your arrogance, Great King. Choosing bright colors to wear just to differentiate yourself from the lower-level villains is a clear sign of your pride. You were easy to spot, and now your worthless pride will lead to your demise.”

Oikawa stares back, wondering if this is the part of the movie where the villain goes on a monologue about his tragic backstory. Except Ushijima’s not sharing how he got disowned by his father and is now repeating something that sounds exactly like a conversation they’ve already had during Interhigh Preliminaries. Plus, he said “lower-level _villains_ ”…

Is Oikawa actually playing the role of a villain here?

His mind tries to pay attention to Ushijima’s words while simultaneously swimming with questions, mainly _why is his brain making him dream of losing to Ushijima again? Weren’t his six years of suffering enough?_

“I am sorry it has to end like this, Great King. You should’ve come to the good side, where we fight for justice instead of against it. Your talents would have blossomed much better in the fertile soil we can offer, but instead you chose to cultivate yourself in barren concrete,” Ushijima says, his voice maintaining the impassive tone. To his credit, he does sound slightly apologetic, and Oikawa’s about to ask why Ushijima is saying sorry to _him_ , of all people, when the agonizing pain strikes his abdomen.

Oikawa’s body goes limp, his entire being burning from the intense pain inflicted upon him. He vaguely wonders how it’s possible to be in so much agony in a dream, then wonders what’ll happen if he dies in a dream. Wake up, probably. At the hopeful thought, he silently wills himself to die quicker so he can escape the torture. When Ushijima drops him, Oikawa collapses onto the floor, his chest heaving and noticing the dagger sticking in his stomach. He can feel the tip of the weapon scraping against the ground, which means Ushijima drove the thing clean through his body.

His hatred towards the spiker has just intensified tenfold.

“I am truly sorry.” Ushijima looks down at him expressionlessly and turns to walk away. “Perhaps this could have been avoided if you had picked the right side to fight on.”

Oikawa watches through fuzzy vision as Ushijima’s backside grows smaller and further away, returning to the chaos of destruction. He feels his mind shutting down, consciousness drifting further and further away. Grateful for the exit to his suffering, he closes his eyes and waits for himself to wake up.

Except he doesn’t, so he has to lie there in excruciating agony as the wound continues to bleed, staining the grey pavement with crimson. At the rate that he’s losing blood, he doesn’t think it’ll be long before he dies from blood loss. He tries to distract himself by plotting revenge as he waits for the inevitable death: when he wakes up, he’s going to buy a dartboard and pin Ushiwaka’s picture onto it.

With his eyes still shut, he can only hear the distant sound of footsteps approaching closer and closer.

 _Maybe another hero’s come to finish me off_ , Oikawa thinks bitterly. He doesn’t think he deserves this suffering when he didn’t willingly materialize as a villain in this dream or whatever. Maybe his mind secretly hates him.

Plus, that stuff he learned last night about dreams representing repressed desires is all nonsense crap because he most certainly is not repressing a desire to be stabbed by stupid Ushiwaka.

When the footsteps stop right in front of him, Oikawa braces himself for another round of agony, which never comes. Hesitantly, he feebly cracks open an eye and notices a dark green outfit. The person appears to be cape-less and wearing simple shirt and pants with a red cross stitched onto the bicep of the right sleeve. When the mysterious newcomer crouches down, Oikawa’s too weak to even flinch away, so he tries to take a better look at the person’s face instead.

To his dismay, the person’s wearing a plain mask that covers the upper half of his face. However, the fear is replaced by shock when Oikawa recognizes the unruly spiky hair and those warm green eyes behind the mask.

“I… Iwa—” Oikawa mumbles, his hand shaking when he tries to reach up towards the familiar face.

“ _Not here!_ ” Iwaizumi hisses, leaning forward so that his face is closer to Oikawa’s. The dying boy is taken back by the hostility because Iwaizumi’s always considerably nicer whenever he’s injured (even trivial ones like a scratch from a branch) and he’s slowly bleeding his guts out here.

His mouth opens in an involuntary scream when Iwaizumi places his hands right over the knife wound, triggering a new wave of pain. Great, now his best friend is trying to finish Ushiwaka’s job of killing him in his dream. How is he supposed to look at Iwaizumi tomorrow?

When a warm and numbing sensation pulses through his body, Oikawa is confused, wondering why he seems to be regaining some strength and life in his body.

“What.. what are you doing?” Oikawa asks, his voice still soft, but at least he’s now capable of forming full sentences. Iwaizumi merely tells him to stay still and be quiet, which Oikawa reluctantly obeys because whatever the other boy is doing soothes the pain until all he feels is faint throbbing in his abdomen.

Iwaizumi suddenly stands up, and Oikawa automatically tries to sit up and reach for him. He realizes his stomach feels completely fine and drops his hand onto where the wound was, now nowhere in sight. Amazed, he pats his stomach and finds that his body feels good as new.

Iwaizumi has healed his wound. Oikawa almost wants to laugh at how accurate the characterization of his best friend is even in dreams. His best friend’s dream is to go into medicine or sports science, with the ultimate goal of helping injured people. It’s an aspiration Oikawa is unequivocally certain gentle and kind Iwaizumi will achieve.

Oikawa looks up at Iwaizumi, who’s still staring down at him, eyes betraying no emotion. “Iwa-chan… You healed me?” Now he knows Iwaizumi must be a hero because the same bird insignia on Ushijima’s belt earlier is depicted on the man’s right chest. “Why? I’m… I’m evil.”

Obviously, Oikawa hasn’t done anything more than getting stabbed, and that doesn’t constitute as evil, but he can’t speak for any of the past deeds he might have done. Do dreams have backstories that lead up to the moment being dreamt?

Oikawa’s busy contemplating this question when Iwaizumi averts his eyes and answers gruffly, “I know you’re not beneath that mask.”

The restored villain has no idea what his relationship with Iwaizumi is in this dream, perhaps mere childhood friends or something more, but he does detect the layers of affection woven intricately between those few words. It’s the reason he watches his best friend’s silhouette retreat back into the chaos to heal those in need without another reply. He closes his eyes for a moment, replaying those tender words in his mind, wanting to relish the warmth in them when he still can.

When Oikawa opens his eyes again, the familiar sight of the glow-in-the-dark-stars on his ceiling greets him. The room is still shrouded in darkness, and the glowing digital clock on his nightstand reads _4:01_. He’s not as disoriented as yesterday because now he knows these weird dreams are _actually_ merely dreams, but just to make sure, he sits up and lifts the hem of his t-shirt up to check that there isn’t a hole in his stomach.

Nope, the area is smooth and unblemished.

Collapsing back onto the bed, he replays Iwaizumi’s words in his head. They weren’t explicitly lovers in his dream, but it still leaves Oikawa yearning for _something more_ with his best friend. There was something alluring about having a connection to Iwaizumi despite their clashing positions as hero and villain, one that makes him wonder why the version of him who’s supposed to be enemies with Iwaizumi can have just as much as he does in real life, where dating Iwaizumi is a tangible possibility yet they remain nothing more than best friends.

After blindly reaching for his phone and unlocking it, he opens up his chat log with Iwaizumi. It’s too early, and the spiker is definitely sleeping, but Oikawa goes ahead and types out a message anyway.

_Oikawa: iwa-chan would make a great hero don’t you think_

_Oikawa: maybe one with healing powers!_

_Oikawa: you’ll probably be mistaken as a villain with that hostile scowl though :p_

Since he’s awake anyway, he decides to make the most of his time and pulls up a professional volleyball match on his computer, snuggling against the blankets as the screen casts a soft glow onto his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading & please comment to let me know what you think!
> 
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